Ink and Paint
by the lone geisha
Summary: Meggie finds herself in a lot of trouble reading something that probably should not have been read. This is a sequal to another story, but basically all you need to know is that Farid has met a girl from "reality" named Nikky, and its been a couple of years since Inkdeath.
1. Chapter 1

I was sitting in the old writer, Fengolio's room. He was snoring loudly on his bed and I was sketching a fairy with a pencil I was given from Nikky a few months before. The calm, blue fairy that was modeling for me rested on a stack of papers. I paused to assess my drawing. I was getting better, I liked how the fairy's hair shined, I tried to create the same effect on the drawing, I was just having trouble trying to make her proportional, and somehow create the blue aura that she had.

When my pencil met with the paper again, I felt a strange vibration coming from my pocket, I panicked. There had been a lot of dangerous looking bugs around the area recently, I took a long deep breath, then smacked my pocket with enough force to kill a rock. I quickly received a pain in my hand and hip bone feeling the hard smooth shape of my cell phone. I sighed, a bit embarrassed of myself. I picked up my phone and read the text.

Hey Meggie! School just ended for the year, can I come over?

I smiled, I love it when Nikky and Farid come into the book from "reality". That may sound weird to anyone who hasn't actually read Inkheart, and for some people who have read Inkheart and have no idea why Farid isn't already in the book. It's a bit complicated.

Anyways, After I read the text I opened one of the drawers under the desk I was sitting at, pulled out the paper again, read over it a couple of times in my head, and finally read the words aloud. I didn't listen to myself say the words, but the sound of them, like music, I find that the power works a lot better when the words flow off of the page, into me, and then out again to make the words real. Nikky and Farid slipped through the pages of Inkheart and flowed into the room like the words did.

I got up and hugged Nikky, then Farid, "I missed you guys so much!" It's not that Doria is boring or something, I mean come on, he's my boyfriend, it's just that he is the only person in the book, besides them, that's about the same age as me, and Nikky is the only friend I have that's a girl besides my mom and Fengolio's landlady.

"We missed you too! I haven't seen you since spring break!" Nikky was smiling as wide as I was, "Farid took me to the dance!" Farid blushed.

"It was pretty fun actually," Farid said, embarrassed.

I laughed, I couldn't imagine Farid actually dancing. "Did you bring any books? I read through the last few that you gave me."

"Yeah, I brought _To Kill a Mockingbird, Eragon, Rot and Ruin_, and also..." Nikky dug through her bag, she quickly found what she was looking for, pulling it out she said, "_Van Gogh, a Retrospective,_" the last book was very large, about a foot and a half tall, a width of about a foot, and it seemed to be about 5 inches thick.

"You carried that in your bag?" I asked, very surprised that the bag didn't come apart.

"Yeah, it wasn't very easy," She said, opening up the book, "it has pretty much every single detail ever recorded of Vincent Van Gogh, er, not every piece," regretfully, she continued, "it doesn't contain all of Vincent's letters, but it has a ton of quotations directly from them," she started flipping through the book, I saw glimpses of colors and figures from pages that showed different paintings and drawings, "read this!" She pointed to a section of the book and handed it to me.

The words she handed me swayed, I could tell that they were fighting the boundary of the paper, they sang out in a kind of desperation to be read aloud, so I did.

"Once back here I too still felt very saddened, and had continued to feel the storm that threatens you also weighing upon me. What can be done – you see I usually try to be quite good-humoured, but my life, too, is attacked at the very root, my step also is faltering. I feared – not completely – but a little nonetheless – that I was a danger to you, living at your expense – but Jo's letter clearly proves to me that you really feel that for my part I am working and suffering like you.

There – once back here I set to work again – the brush however almost falling from my hands and – knowing clearly what I wanted I've painted another three large canvases since then. They're immense stretches of wheatfields under turbulent skies, and I made a point of trying to express sadness, extreme loneliness. You'll see this soon, I hope – for I hope to bring them to you in Paris as soon as possible, since I'd almost believe that these canvases will tell you what I can't say in words, what I consider healthy and fortifying about the countryside."

The words had lifted off of the page like someone long asleep rising from their bed. Nikky, Farid, and I just looked at the ground, in awe of the words, someone tapped my shoulder.

I turned slowly, trying not to let the feeling that the words gave fade, I faced the person behind me, I wasn't really registering who the person was, it just seemed like a figure, nothing compared to the words, so I turned back to the letter, watching the freed words dance on the page.

"Excuse me madam," I heard a soft Dutch-accented voice behind me.

Annoyed at the intrusion, I turned around again, this time looking at the man behind me. He was tall, red headed, an orange beard and mustache, his eyes somewhere between blue and green. He also had freckles, which greatly contrasted with the rest of his appearance. He wore a blue canvas jacket that fit him in an odd way, every article of clothing was stained with bright blues, yellows, and reds, creating patterns that in themselves could be considered great works of art. Last, I noticed that one of his ears was missing a great chunk.

I could have guessed who he was because of the letter I just read, or his appearance, or the fact that there were three wet paintings in the room, but I couldn't believe it. I had no idea what this meant. I had always read aloud from fiction, I could transport people in the current time, I had never read something out of the past, let alone someone who had been dead for so many years. "Vincent?" I asked, hoping there had been some mistake.

"How do you know my name?" A look of confusion crossed his face, as he had no idea where he was.


	2. Chapter 2

Vincent sighed, "Oh, its happening again isn't it?" He sat on the floor, rubbing his temples, "Do you have any coffee?"

"No," I said, "I'm so sorry," I paused "what do _you_ think is happening?"

"I seemed to have lost some of my memory again, where am I?" Vincent was embarrassed at himself, which caused me to feel guiltier than I already felt.

"You aren't exactly in Europe," Nikky said quietly, she watched as Vincent's face changed from embarrassment to dread.

"Is Theo Ok? I couldn't live with myself if something bad has happened!" Vincent was almost yelling, his eyes shot all over the room as if he would see his brother, Theo, hiding in a corner, "I usually have this kind of amnesia after some terrible event."

"Theo is fine," I said, "You will see him soon, I promise." Vincent seemed to calm a little. He looked to the desk and saw the faerie I had been sketching.

Eyes widening, he said, "Do you two see that?" he asked, gesturing to a sleeping faerie.

"Yes," I said, Vincent's eyebrows raised, surprised that he wasn't hallucinating.

Nikky was sitting on her ground, her chin was between her knees, arms wrapped around her legs, and her eyes were closed tightly. "What?" I asked, confused.

"He said 'two'," whispered Nikky.

"Of course I said two, you girls are the only ones in here, besides whoever is sleeping in the bed."

I turned, remembering Fengolio was napping, but then I realized why Nikky was upset. Farid was gone.

"We're going to figure this out," I said quietly to Nikky, I walked over to the bed and tapped Fengolio on the shoulder. Nothing happened, anxiously, I shook his arm, he woke he groaned in pain and sat up,

"What?" he asked sharply, looking at the strange man in the room, he picked up his cane defensively.

"It's Ok, Fengolio, just get some paint from the market please," He saw Nikky and stood up immediately.

"What kind?" Fengolio asked.

"Oils," said Vincent.

Fengolio seemed to have questions, but he didn't voice them as he rushed down the stairs.

I sat next to Nikky, "Are you Ok?"

She kept her eyes closed, she was starting to rock slowly.

"We are going to get Farid back," I said.

Nikky didn't respond.

I sat there for about twenty minutes. I was worried about Farid too, what would it mean if he was actually transported to the past? It seemed to create a paradox. When Nikky came in from "reality," and I had found out that she was read here by the author of _Inkheart_, Cornelia Funke, and I discovered that I was a book character. Which meant that Farid and I were fictional, and there was a chance that Nikky may be just a collection of words like everyone else in this 'Inkworld'. If that were true, and Vincent van Gogh was actually real, there was no telling what could happen. Could Farid be transported into the past of the real "reality"? What if he couldn't? Would he just disappear? I didn't know what would happen to him.

I looked up at Vincent, the faerie had actually flown onto his finger, he was delicately touching her wings, and I could hear her faintly humming. Vincent was mesmerized, a tear slipped down his cheek and he mouthed something, a name, but I couldn't tell what he had said. He noticed me staring, and immediately wiped the tear with his free hand, then continued looking at the faerie.


	3. Chapter 3

Fengolio soon returned to the room with some paints, "I bought red, blue, yellow, black, and white paints, I figured that you could make any color from these."

Vincent seemed pleased, "thank you," he paused, contemplating, "has anyone told you that your face is quite… turtlish?"

"Yes, yes people have told me that," Fengolio muttered.

"May I paint your portrait?" Vincent asked, not at all aware of the annoyance Fengolio was showing.

"Sure," Fengolio said bitterly.

"I need a canvas." Vincent announced.

"Ok," Fengolio said.

Vincent stared at Fengolio expectantly. Fengolio stared back, mimicking Vincent.

"Fengolio?" I said

"Yes."

"Can you go out and get a canvas?"

Fengolio coughed.

"Please?" I asked.

Fengolio gave a long sigh and stalked out of the small room, and down the stairs, being careful not to trip on the first step that was steeper than all of the others.

After Fengolio's steps faded away, Vincent asked, "May I have a look around the town?"

I looked at Nikky sitting next to me, "Will you be Okay while I show Vincent around?"

She nodded. I got up and lead Vincent out of the room.

Once out the door, Vincent gasped, in the midst of the crowd, glass men and women were running and dodging feet, fairies hovered over the people, occasionally diving into the mass and pulling hairs off of the heads of unsuspecting villagers.

Vincent ran, behind the house and into the forest. I ran after him, which wasn't very hard, he was very clumsy and had a very slight limp. He didn't stop until he reached a clearing where the noise from the town completely dissipated. He slouched, holding himself up by pressing his hands to his knees, extremely out of breath.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, catching my breath.

"Crowds make me nervous," he stuttered, "and now that I'm in a place I've never recalled even hearing about, the... symptoms seem to be getting worse."

"Symptoms?"

"The doctors say that I have 'Temporal Lobe Epilepsy', there are a lot of symptoms that effect how my brain works."

"Is that how your ear-?'

"Don't" Vincent yelled suddenly, "People keep asking me that! I don't know what happened! I don't remember anything, at all, and now my most loyal friend, Paul, hates me! He thinks that I'm the 'Mad Redhead' like all the others call me!" he stopped, his face froze for a full minute, his eyes glazed, wide open, then he blinked, "Crowds make me nervous," he said, for the second time, "and now that I'm in a place I've never recalled even hearing about, the... symptoms seem to be getting worse."

"Oh, Ok," I said trying to keep the initial shock of him shouting at me off of my face, I knew that it was probably one of the symptoms, both the temper and memory loss, "I understand," I said empathetically.

"The forest here," Vincent said, examining a blue leaf, "It's like nothing in Europe or any books that I've read on botony," looking up at the sky, he saw a faerie, "and are these what I think they are? I've only seen them in children's stories."

"Well," I said, "it's because... this is an island, so it's kind of isolated from the nature of countries and continents, the faeries are kept a secret so no one will try to take them."

"I have to make paintings then." He said, still staring up.

"Ok."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Farid?**_

_**Farid wake up.**_

Someone was calling me, the voice was unfamiliar and indistinct. I realized I was asleep, and I didn't want to wake up.

My eyes opened involuntarily, and my legs moved without my telling them to do so. I then vaguely acknowledged the fact that my thoughts were dull, muted, I tried to move my hand but nothing happened. I stood, except I didn't mean to. I had no control of my body. I sighed and took a mug off of a table next to the bed, I walked groggily through a small hall, I found that I couldn't even move my line of sight, I was looking at the maroon rug and my footsteps. I walked out onto a wooden paneled floor, my eyes moved up and focused on the table where a pot sat, I put down the mug next to it. I poured the dark liquid from the pot into my mug, I smelled coffee. The coffee splashed onto my hand as I poured it, it was cold, it had probably been out for a long time. I picked up the mug and brought it over to a light colored wooden counter, I saw a glass bottle labeled 'Absinthe' I reached for it and was surprised to find myself pouring it into the mug until it almost overflowed. I lifted the mug to eye level, then tilting my head all the way gulped desperately at the spiked coffee.

The bitterness of the coffee and alcohol was overwhelming, I wanted to spit it out but I still couldn't control anything that was happening.

Yet there was a part of me, though it didn't feel like me at all, that wanted the drink more than anything else, that couldn't bear parting with it, it knew exactly what it, I, was doing, it, he, had done it all before, it was like a slave to its whims.

I had gulped down the entire beverage, I released the mug and it fell to the floor with a loud crash.

_God. _Said a voice in my head, it wasn't the same one as the one before, the other was external, this one was internal. The thought was clear, and it was my thought, but it came from the same part that the need for alcohol came from. _Why is everything like this? _Again, an involuntary thought, I wasn't even capable of putting my own thoughts into sentences in my head, yet this other part was. _No one even cares._

I started walking down the hall again, about midway pushing open a door. I rushed over to a toilet and vomited, my vision blurred with tears as I heaved. After a few minutes, I got up from my kneeling position and walked to a sink, I turned a knob and rubbed my face with soap and water, after I rinsed and dried off with a towel, I looked into a mirror.

I was tall, my skin was pale, my hair was orange and messy, I had a moustache and beard that I hadn't groomed in quite a while apparently,_ I_ was wearing a blue canvas jacket covered with colorful paint splatters, My eyes were dark blue, they were deeply sad, and seemed slightly crazy, the eyes of a man who saw no light at the end of a tunnel.

My eyes blurred again, there were more tears coming, _I loved her_, the thought was loud and tortured. A wail escaped me and I fell to my knees, _Siene. _I put my face in my hands as another torrent of tears and moans overtook me. I wasn't Farid anymore, that small part of me had almost completely taken my mind, I was mostly Vincent, Farid was still there, but just in the background, incapable of independent of thought.

Suddenly my eyes opened wide and I stood up again, intense desperation washed over me, I opened the cupboard above the sink and started knocking over different soaps and medicines, finally finding what I was looking for, I pulled it out and held it between my hands, I wasn't sure what it was until blood started dripping to the floor, I felt pain but I couldn't care less, opening my hands, I examined the razor blade resting on my palm.

I closed my hand around the razor, the pain stronger, but it numbed the greater pain of losing Siene. I opened my hand again, the wound was gruesome, but I figured that it wouldn't kill me, I just wrapped a bandage around it.

The idea of dying wasn't so scary to me anymore. I wanted the pain to end. _Siene is never going to come back_. I pressed the razor between my thumb and the side of my pointer finger,_ no one will care_, I laid it against my wrist, _Theo won't have to give me money anymore, he has to take care of his wife and new baby, _I held the razor tighter, _Paul never actually cared about me. Hopefully he feel some guilt when I finally leave, _I loosed my grip a little, _I doubt that he would even give a second thought,_ my grip was tighter again but I pulled it from my wrist, _he only cares for himself, maybe he could care if it was his own life that was at stake. _I smiled and walked out of the bathroom with a new sense of purpose, I walked down the hall, through the kitchen, then the living room and out of the door, my razor was still in my hand, I scanned the street from left to right slowly, I saw a woman walking down the road, my hand twitched, I had an urge to use the razor but stopped, _what if I were arrested before I could get to Paul? _I walked onto the street and followed behind her, Paul was that way anyways. I walked until I reached the street near where Paul's girlfriend worked, Paul was standing in the middle of the street and watched my advance, when I was about five feet away, he saw the razor.

Paul's gaze turned from indifference to a cold stare, his brow furrowed and he stepped forward, I wasn't quite intimidated, but I saw something, I saw his eyes, I remembered that he was another person, albeit a cold serious one, but still, someone with a perspective, someone that mattered. I bowed my head, I couldn't take what I had tried to do back, so I just ran with my head still down.

I arrived at my house again and ran into the bathroom. I looked in the mirror again. I saw a crazed evil and incapable man in the mirror, I punched him right in the face and he shattered, sprinkling glass and blood on the floor in a flash of bending light. I crouched down and touched the shards, they cut my fingers but I managed to pile them together, I lifted up my hands and only saw red, I started doodling on white floor with my blood, like paint on a canvas. I sketched a woman, a prostitute to be more specific, her eyes shallow and uncaring, yet a fake smile spread across her face, _Rachel. _I hated her. Rachel made me think that she had cared, but honestly, she could care even less than Paul, no matter how much blood was spilt, she didn't even have the self respect to care if she were killed. She just lived because it was something to do. _Now let's see how much blood I can spill..._

I brought the razor to my finger, planning to cut it off, but if I did live after today, I may want to paint again. I then lifted the razor to my ear, I grasped the lobe and pressed the razor against it. I cut through.

This pain was nothing like the glass, not even the deep cuts from the razor on my hands, I was dizzy for a minute, but then I saw the sketch of Rachel and my smile returned. I didn't look at the severed part of my ear as I put it into a small box, I didn't put a lid on it because I didn't want there to be a way to hide it after it had been seen.

I walked out of the house again, ear bandaged roughly, and to the Maison de Tolerance no. 1, the bar was filled with drunk men and waitresses in tight uniforms, I pushed through the laughing people and to the back of the bar where Rachel sat with a drunk, he handed her wad of money, apparently they were doing "business."

I stood above her, she glanced at me behind her and turned away again indifferently. "Rachel!" I yelled. Everyone in the bar went silent. Rachel still wasn't paying attention to me, she was counting her money.

I threw the box on the table right in front of her, she screamed in shock and disgust, "Keep this in remembrance of me!" I said with as much scorn and hatred I could put into the sentence. I ran out of the bar before anyone could do anything to stop me.

I went as fast as I could back home. This time I went back to the bathroom and retrieved the razor again from the floor.

I brought the razor to my wrist again and swiftly cut before I could change my mind.

Blood was pouring out immediately.

I couldn't think straight anymore.

Everything was falling away.

Nothing mattered.

_Paul?_

Paul was in the living room with me, "how did I get over here?" I managed to slur the words.

I began to fall, Paul rushed over to help me, "Why did you do this to yourself! Have you gone mad?" He was holding my wrist up, he reached into his deep jacket pockets and pulled out some linen, he wrapped it around my wrist tightly.

"Ow," I said in a whisper. He pulled the linen even tighter and I cringed. He also started wrapping it over my bloody palm.

"Now, if anyone asks, you tripped and sprained your wrist a week ago." Paul said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because if they find out you are suicidal they will force you into a mental institution for the rest of your life, I'm sure." Paul scrutinized the bandage, "but you could voluntarily commit yourself since you merely mutilated your ear, you should stay at an asylum for at least a few months, let them help you and diagnose you."

"No," I said, "why did you come? Why do you care whether or not I'm in an asylum?"

"You have to be preserved," Paul said, "you can't live out your artistic career if you're in an asylum for the rest of your life."

"Thank you." I said.

"Go to bed, I'm sure someone will be here to investigate in the morning."


End file.
